Taunted and Tormented

Anders woke in the morning with his arms wrapped around his pillow, cheek resting against it in a manner that almost gave the illusion of a comfortable shoulder. Nuzzling his 'partner,' he blinked his eyes open, frowning a little at the amber glow the room seemed to have as the morning sun filtered through the drapes over the window.

He was on the bed, which meant Nate...

There he was, sleeping propped up in the chair, arms crossed over his stomach as his chin tipped down to barely rest against his chest. He was a little slouched this morning, his knees spread, and no blanket. He shook his head. Would that man never learn?

Pulling the cover off of the bed as he rose, Anders crossed the floor, shivering as his bare feet padded over the wood, and lightly tossed the thing over both Nathaniel and the chair. He'd tried draping it over him once. Nate had come awake so quickly and his grip had been enough to nearly drop him to his knees. He'd pass on that, thank you. If he woke up from it, it would serve him right. If not, well, he didn't much care as he was climbing back into the warmth he'd left behind, intent on stealing as much more sleep as he could.

"You realize we're due to patrol soon, right?" came a rough voice behind him.

"Not hearing you. You're a figment of the Fade." He hummed to further prove his point.

"This figment is still perfectly capable of throwing you over his shoulder and marching you outside, ready or not, and poking you with sharp things until you start to move."

"You're evil. I hate you." Anders pulled the pillow over his head.

"I'm well aware. I'll leave you to get changed. Breakfast on me this morning."

He heard Nate get up, the cover dropping in a heap to the floor, and then him crossing it, the door opening with a small creak and his footsteps as they carried him toward the stairs. He was sorely tempted to stay where he was but at the same time, he didn't doubt his fellow Warden wouldn't follow through with his threat.

Sighing, he pushed himself up once more and headed for his bag, wanting a fresh set of clothing for the day. It wasn't until he'd pulled his other garments off that he became aware that he wasn't exactly alone. Turning around quickly, he felt the layer of frost beginning to coat his fingertips, solidifying into one of the bolts he was capable of whipping at an enemy. And yet there didn't seem to be anything there.

It wasn't until he heard the chuckle that he relaxed. "I suppose you're just keeping an eye out, to make sure I was awake?"

"Let's just say you've developed something of a pattern."

The ice melted away, returning to the ether that he'd drawn it from, though the chill of it still remained. He was going to breathe onto his fingers to warm them up when a better idea came to him. If Nate was going to be so insistent upon watching him...

Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he let his fingertips wander up his thigh, across his stomach and trace a line up his chest to his throat. Thankfully, his eyes were lidded, so he could watch Nate's reaction from under his lashes, careful not to let his expression give too much away. There was a skewed brow, lips parted, an exhale that heralded that moment between keeping silent and interrupting, and, of course, the uncertainty he caught in the other man's gaze.

Scratching his hand through his hair, he did his best to make the whole thing seem perfectly casual. "Well, now that you know I'm up," grin, "you can go see about that breakfast you promised." He shooed Nate away with the same hand, turning his back on him to gather up his robes and pull them over his head.

"R...ight." And the other man turned and truly exited the room this time.

Not quite the reaction he'd hoped for. The disbelieving look at least proved that he had been looking, following the mage's hand as it moved. And the slight catch in his voice. Well, he hadn't been going for speechless, so he could call it a victory. If Nate was going to rob him of sleep, he could rob him of comfort.

Which was part of the reason he figured Nathaniel had ordered them to split up while they were on patrol. The reason given was that they could cover more ground that way but he'd quickly turned away from Anders' grin as he agreed. Besides, it wasn't as though they weren't within shouting distance of one another, should they run into something they couldn't handle alone.

Anders wandered down one street, letting out a curse as he found the way out thoroughly blocked by debris and scrap. He thought he'd be able to get past, but looking at it now, that wasn't the case. Shoulders drooping as he sighed, he turned and made his way back.

Midway there, he stopped. Two figures had moved to block the exit to the cross-street. Shifting his grip on his staff, he began to call to mind one of his glyphs. Incinerating someone for simply looking suspicious wouldn't make the Commander very happy. Best to play it safe.

Before he could get any closer, he felt the familiar, sickening feeling of having his mana sucked away in one sudden pull. His knees buckled as the vertigo from it caused a shine behind his eyes. Spots danced amid the broken cobbles and he was barely holding himself away from them with a trembling arm, trying to suck in air against the tightness in his chest. He didn't hear the footfalls on the stones as the men approached. All he heard was his blood rushing in his ears until one spoke.

"You're not looking very good, Ser Mage." He could hear the leer in the templar's voice. "Maybe we ought to see you somewhere safe."

"No," he croaked out, his limp muscles unable to bat at the hands seizing his arms. He managed to kick but the angle wasn't right and the two men practically hauled him off of his feet to drag him along. "No!"

"Shut him up, idiot! He'll bring the guards."

A wad of cloth was stuffed into his mouth, the feel of it making his stomach lurch as he gagged. Forcing it out with his tongue, he felt an elbow jab into his side, stealing his breath before he could call out again. The rag was scooped up from the ground and stuffed back in again.

Wherever they were taking him, it wasn't far. A shack, maybe, or deserted barracks. Once they were inside, one man let him go to head over and strike a taper to a lantern. He fought with the other as he bound his hands behind his back. Once he was trussed up, he shoved him to his knees.

"Where's the bottle?"

"Here."

"Heh. Nothing like sharing a drink with friends." The templar returned and pulled the gag free. "Drink." He shoved a bottle up to Anders' lips.

He flinched back. "Go to hell." He even managed to work up enough to spit at the man.

That got him clubbed, hard, on the side of the head. He saw spots again and actually tumbled over. There were hands on him then, a pair of fingers pinching his nose shut. He could feel the glass against his lips again.

No! No! I don't want to. Let go. Let go or I'll...I'll...Damn it, no!

He had to gasp.  It was either that or pass out and his body chose the former.  Something too sweet poured into his mouth and before he could spit it out, the hand clamped over his mouth, thumb pinching at his nose to make certain he swallowed it.  When he was finally released, he managed to roll to his side, trying to spit out what remnants of it he could taste.

"How long before it works?"

"Brewer said not long.  Then the fun starts."  He really didn't like that chuckle.

"You...You're making a big mistake," he managed to gasp out. "My commander--"

"Is going to be shy one mage soon enough." The templar gave him a toothy smile. "You didn't think you'd be leaving here alive, did you, mage?"

He'd certainly hoped it. Still, Nate would realize he was missing. No matter what happened, they'd know. Eventually. No. He had to stop thinking like that and start thinking on getting loose. Except, it was getting hard to do that. He felt...sleepy. Warm. Very warm. It almost seemed like his robes were too heavy and he wanted them gone. Wanted his icy touch from this morning. Huffing out a breath, he groaned, trying to roll over and press more of his skin against the cool ground.

"Looks like it's working."

A laugh. "Aye. All flushed. Like a bride on her wedding night." The other joined in the laugh that time.

"Best not to keep our friend waiting too long. Don't want him too eager and the fun to be over too quickly."

What...What fun? What were they...? He tried to shift his body again and groaned, this time from the heavy feeling that was settling below his stomach. Maker, he was starting to ache, the prickle of it creeping all along his skin. He felt the scratch of his robes being pulled up, the cool air welcome, yet something nagged at the back of his mind, telling him there was something wrong about this.

"You're sure that stuff will making him go along with this?"

"So I was told."

"Good. I'd hate to have to break his teeth for biting," the one in front laughed.

"You just wait until I'm done with him. Then you can do whatever you want."

He tried to gaze up but he wasn't at a good angle. Groaning a little, he attempted to sit himself up, only to feel a hand between his shoulders, pushing him back down.

"Now, now, Ser Mage. Don't be so eager, hmm?" Short nails scraped over his skin, making him gasp, eyes opening wide.

"Don't."

"Heh. And here I was beginning to think there wouldn't be any fight in you." The man's palms seemed to scorch his skin, heat combined with his body's flush. "That just makes it more fun."

Anders tried pushing himself away, but crawling was near impossible, not to mention he felt hands hauling him back as soon as he tried.

"Stop that. You're going to keep still for me. Especially after I went through all this trouble to see your question answered."

"Wh-What question?" His throat pinched as he swallowed.

Something hard and metal trailed down the small of his back. "How my sword compares to my reach."

That realization pierced through the haze.

"No!" His knees scraped against the floor as he tried to get away again.

He could feel the bite of a hilt at his side as he was pulled back again, a hand then coming up to grip his robes, this time hauling his body upward, enough that a firm hand could grip at his jaw.

"Let's stop that mewling."

He tried to shake his head, but the man's grip was too strong. Then came the press of the metal, trailing between his buttocks. That he thought he could try and arch away from, but the templar simply changed the angle, following him. Gritting his teeth, he could feel it starting to press against him, feel the other waiting for his lips to part. Everything about the situation repulsed him but what frightened him the most was how his body wanted what they were going to do. He'd been aching for it, for any release from the tension that had surged through him. Another few moments and they needn't have forced him. He likely would have been begging for it.

The hilt started to breach into him, causing whimpers to roll in the back of his throat. Another push and he nearly screamed, his teeth grinding together to keep his mouth closed, huffing as many breaths as he could through his nose. He heard the faintest wisp of sound in front of him and suddenly the support that he had was gone. His body fell forward and he landed with a grunt. There was the crunch of a boot and the pain stopped abruptly, relief instantly warring with the empty feeling it left behind. Lips allowed to part, he panted, breathing broken up by groans and impatient wriggles of his hips.

He felt hands on him again, not yet realizing that he'd been covered by his robes once more. As they seized his wrists, he started, trying to shake himself free.

"Anders, hold still. It's all right."

Nate? "Nate?" he groaned, not quite trusting his ears.

The rogue sawed through the ropes, freeing his arms. "Come on, mage. Let's get you out of here."

His shoulders protested the movement, liking even less being made to push himself up. He found himself chuckling as bravado edged out embarrassment and fear. "What kept you?"

"I had to break in from the upstairs."

He managed to roll himself into a sitting position, blinking the dark-haired noble into focus. He put on a rather cross face. "Took you long enough." He would have crossed his arms if they didn't ache so.

"I could have waited." Nate arched a brow.

"No. Nnnno, that's...fine. Just fine." He tried to stand and found himself stumbling into Nate's arms. He realized there were two men...templar...lying on the floor. "Did you kill them?"

Nate adjusted his hold on him, one arm around his side, the other holding onto his hand. That wasn't comfortable so he put his arm over the rogue's shoulders instead. That felt safer.

"I used a sleeping draught, but I--"

Something about his features darkened and for a moment, his eyes didn't seem quite so bright. "What?" Anders breathed out.

"I wanted to," he whispered.

The mage leaned into his companion a little more, still warm, but this feeling was different. He still ached and he was starting to feel dizzy. They needed to go. That much he understood. Tipping his head some, he dusted an ear with his lips.

"Take me home. Please."